


Sadistic Love

by threewalls



Category: KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: 2011, Aftercare, Bloodplay, Community: kink_bingo, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dom POV, Domestic, Dreamboys 2006, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Knifeplay, M/M, Power Dynamics, Roleplay, Sadism, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin has a thing for dub-con roleplay; Kame wants to make him happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sadistic Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mirokkuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/gifts).



> Written for a prompt on the [JE Anon Meme](http://happyjenewyear.livejournal.com/924.html?thread=405916&format=light#t405916) and for the "emotion manipulation" square of my kink_bingo card. With thanks to Lynndyre for beta.

Lifting a pot of water from the sink to the hob, stirring the sauce, Kame moves around his kitchen slowly, a habit that came from living with dogs underfoot, but one that works as well with the presence of certain houseguests. Kame steps back into heat and hard muscle; Jin slides his hands, not just under Kame's apron, but up under the hem of his T-shirt.

Kame holds the sauce-coated wooden spoon up over his shoulder. The pale stripe he leaves on Jin's cheek looks suspicious, even before Jin's tongue licks out and his eyes shut in bliss.

"How does it taste?" Kame asks.

"You know how to find out."

The angle is awkward, but Jin's arms are loose, so Kame can half turn and still have the spoon raised somewhere over the hob, his free hand in Jin's hair, anchoring Jin's head in place. With professional commitments over three continents and three times as many countries, tonight is the first time in over half a year that they've had a whole evening together, without being separated by miles, oceans, time zones. Skype is a miracle, a necessity, but it isn't this.

They're still kissing when the timer for the pasta rings.

"Glasses for white wine or red?" Jin asks, opening the cabinet. He looks so pleased to have remembered that there's a difference that Kame is almost tempted to test him. Almost.

"Is mineral water ok?"

"What, are you pregnant?"

Jin pulls a face when he realises what he's said. Kame just about manages not to laugh, grinning as he drizzles olive oil over the drained pasta, shaking it through.

"I have plans that I think we should both be sober for," Kame says, which is luckily enough to distract Jin.

"Secret plans?"

"In my bedroom," Kame says. "On the bedside table. You'll know what I mean when you see it. Jin, tumblers first!"

Skype is also good for something else. Those middle of the night confessions happened while the other person was awake enough to remember the details the next day. It works out better that way for planning.

Kame can hear Jin say "fuck" all the way from the kitchen.

\---

"Food's great. Really."

Kame nods. He's been picking at his plate as well. They can eat it later. Breakfast, maybe. Fry it up with a few eggs dumped in on top. "Do you want to go wash up?" Kame asks.

And Jin's out of his chair, just like that.

"Wait." Kame grabs Jin's wrist.

The bluntness of the word makes Kame wince. Jin's reaction is not much better: not shut down, not yet, but Jin's mood can change like a flicked switch. Kame had thought they'd have more time over the meal to discuss things, time enough to find some more natural segue. He thinks he knows what Jin wants, sort of, but it's taken Jin three months, or five years, depending on how you looked at it, to mention that he thought Kame looked hot whipping out a knife. Kame still hasn't figured out the details.

"Anything you don't want me to do?"

"I trust you," Jin shrugs, still not looking at Kame.

Kame keeps his face turned to study his hand holding Jin's wrist, with discreet glances up through his lashes. Jin ruffles his own hair with his free hand, looks at the wall, looks at his feet. Kame caresses the inside of Jin's wrist with slow sweeps of his thumb.

Kame usually loves improvising, loves the challenge, the mystery, loves knowing he knows all the many ways how Jin's body likes to be touched while they're waiting for Jin's mind and his mouth to catch up. He thinks that, sometimes, even Jin doesn't know what Jin wants. But, with a knife, that's something different, something new. It's something Jin wants when it's usually Kame who wants to try things that are a bit different. He can be patient: they have all night.

Jin's words come out in a rush: "Not my face, try not to leave scars? OK? Is that enough?"

"Not deep?" Kame asks, sitting up straighter, because "try not to leave scars" hadn't been what he'd expected.

"No! No, not deep. Just-- enough so I know you mean business."

That's when Kame realises that Jin's not looking away, he's looking between down the hall to Kame's bedroom, and absolutely anywhere but Kame's face.

"Look, do we have to keep talking about it? If you don't want to--"

"I want to," Kame interrupts, because _that_ from Jin is even more of a tell than the tent pitched in his cargos. "You saw the knife I bought."

Jin swallows. Kame watches the motion of his throat.

"I want to," he repeats.

Kame scrapes his thumbnail along the inside of Jin's forearm. The look Jin gives him, a glance that quickly falls from Kame's face over his shoulder, pupils wide, lips parted, makes Kame's breath catch. _Don't leave scars_ means Jin expects Kame to cut him, that Jin wants that, that Kame _can_. Maybe he has the instincts for this, after all.

"Now go get clean," Kame says, letting go. "Everywhere." It's a cheap shot, but a familiar one. Kame even gets a grin from Jin, though Jin turns his head to hide it. "That's the last hint you get."

\---

Kame clears the table, scrapes their plates into individual containers, loads up the dishwasher, all with an ear to the shower turning off.

He'd thought about a tanto, a nice Edo reproduction, or even something fancy and European-looking, with a ruby-eyed skull finishing the hilt, before pulling himself back. Jin's fantasies tend to less dramatic lines than his own. Jin hasn't mentioned more about whatever thing he has about Kame and a knife since that session back in July, but Jin has told Kame other stories since then. It's a thing they do, when they're long distance. The way that Kame spun stories about honour, loyalty and vengeance earlier in the year, Jin's imagination has cast bayside, ringside, towards estranged childhood friends.

That's why Kame bought a flick-knife, just something ordinary, good quality, that fits comfortably in his hand. It opens without a sound.

So does the bathroom door. Jin is facing away, bent at the waist, ostentatiously thorough in his drying of his legs. Kame waits for Jin to straighten, to make disaffected eye contact with Kame in the mirror.

"Lose the towel. You won't need it."

Jin doesn't drop the towel. He doesn't rush to cover himself, either, leisurely turning to meet Kame's stare full on, head held high.

"Or what?"

Kame stalks closer, considered steps, knife raised and ready. It's fascinating, watching Jin's eyes dart between the knife and Kame's face. He's not looking at the door or the walls now. Jin's not moving, either, standing still with his towel clutched in one hand.

"The towel, drop it," Kame says, and "Shh," when Jin opens his mouth to retort. "Or you'll upset me. I don't think you want to do that. But feel free to prove me wrong, Akanishi."

That gets Kame a burning glare.

And the towel hurled down on the floor.

Kame smiles, and takes that last step forward, all of Jin's freshly washed skin invitingly within reach.

"I should have kept in touch," he says. "You grew up pretty."

Jin stiffens at the first touch of the blade-- the flat, of course, for now-- from the inner bend of Jin's elbow, up following the line of the muscles of his arm. Just larger than the legal limit for carrying, the blade is still smaller than one of his fingers. But, Kame thinks, looking up into Jin's passive face, being small doesn't mean it lacks bite.

Drawing the blade up and across Jin's chest, Kame skirts beneath the fall of Jin's hair, and his collarbones. He can hear Jin exhale as the blade glides downwards, skirting a nipple, scalloping along the dips of his ribs, his waist. Jin hasn't lost any of his movie conditioning. Jin is looking at the wall to the side of Kame's head.

Well.

"Pay attention," he says.

Then, there, in line with the jutting bone of Jin's hip, Kame rolls the blade. He slices Jin's skin. The lines are so quick, so light, that the first only begins to bleed on Kame's third stroke.

"Nn."

The urge for Kame to place his mouth on the thin cuts, on the blood beading along their edges, is overwhelming. He sees Jin's hands tense and release by his sides, from the corner of his eye. The recognition is almost an afterthought. First blood, Kame thinks, and: this isn't just something Jin wants.

Kame retraces the path of the blade up the other side of Jin's body, as slow as before, forcing himself to be as deliberate. He wants Jin in his bedroom, wants to strip from the harsh confines of his own jeans, but not yet. He watches his moving knife, and he watches Jin, waiting for the moment when Jin's eyes widen, when he realises that Kame's knife isn't heading for Jin's pretty face-- Jin said not his face-- but below.

"Stay still," Kame says. "You're not going to make me hurt you again, are you, Akanishi?"

Jin's head jerks, he swallows, eyes only on the knife. The blade is at Jin's sternum, arcing left, rising with slow, smooth motion. Jin's licking his lips, breathing shallow, his shoulders rising.

"Stay still, and I promise I won't hurt you very much."

"I--" Jin's voice breaks, and it's all the warning Kame gets. Jin's shoulders jump, pure reflex, even though Kame's now holding the knife about a foot away from any part of Jin. "I can't," Jin is saying, "I just, I can't--"

"We'll see," Kame says. "Bedroom's second on the left. There. Now."

\---

Jin's expecting the knife, not the open palmed shove that sends his body flat onto Kame's bed. He scrambles onto his hands and knees, his back towards the headboard. Keeping Kame in sight.

"On your back, knees up and apart," Kame says, pulling out his second bedside drawer; he can find what needs by touch. "Pillow," he adds, with a critical tilt of his head. "I don't have all night."

Jin glares, but Jin also complies, yanking the pillow beside his head over and wrestling it under his arse. He drops his hands above his head, with a long suffering sigh.

Kame smirks, because, the hands, he hadn't demanded that. He pulls his T-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, walking around to the foot of the bed. Kame un-buttons his fly one-handed and falls to his knees between Jin's spread feet.

Kame will have to wash these jeans, but Jin is naked. Kame watches Jin lick his lips. The flush from Jin's face is now halfway down his neck.

Kame preps them both fast. His hand slides as he grips Jin's thigh to position him, other hand held tight around the handle of the knife. It takes Kame four, short, sharp thrusts of his hips to finally be flush in Jin's body, Kame bent over him, Kame's messy hand pressing down on the overlap of Jin's wrists. Like this, Jin's mouth is close enough to kiss.

Instead, Kame says: "I want to play a game. You'll need to pay attention. Two words: _stop_ and _go_. When I say _stop_ , you go completely still. Just like this."

Kame raises the flat of the knife under Jin's chin, directing Jin to tilt his head back.

"And when I say _go_ , I want you to struggle, try to shift me off you. _Stop_ and _go_. Understand?"

"I understand you have a fucking knife."

"I'm glad we understand each other."

Jin doesn't say anything to that, but a knife, it makes things different. Kame pulls back the blade, finds a comfortable place for the handle against the sheets. He checks his stance, checks his grip on Jin's wrists, and the wide, dark pupils of Jin's eyes.

" _Go_."

Jin has no leverage, his hands pinned by Kame's, his body pinned by Kame's. Jin's feet bounce under Kame's arms he tries to wriggle. Sweat glistens on his skin, light shifting with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His hair is a mess on the pillow, his head tossing this way and that, frustration plain in his expression, and in the rigid length jutting into Kame's stomach on every hard inward stroke.

Kame calls _stop_ : When the heat and their rhythm are almost too much, counting backwards from twenty, when he slips out, when Jin's eyes flicker right, the knife. He wants Jin still when he cuts him, lines in parallel, lines criss-crossing Jin's heaving chest, blood spreading with the motion of their bodies when Kame moves the blade from Jin's body to the sheet, and says _go_.

Then, Kame uses his teeth instead. It's suction that leave marks, but Kame can nip at Jin's soft earlobes, graze the long line of his neck. He can bite the place where Jin's neck meets his shoulders, Jin bucking beneath him, blurting out English obscenities, _no, fuck, fuck you, not there, you asshole_ , and Kazuya, drawn out like a moan.

Kame says _stop_ , right before he thinks he might lose it, Jin's body tight and hot and good, right before he comes.

Kame gives himself a count to six, catching his breath with his eyes closed, regrouping, figuring out what he's doing next. Then, he pulls out, sitting back on his calves. He knots the condom and throws it into the bin by his side of the bed.

"Show off."

Jin is lying like Kame's weight is still on him, bent double on the pillow, hands above his head. Through the window of his legs, his cock is stiff and dark-- looks painful, Kame thinks, more painful than the dark lines and mottled smears on Jin's skin.

Kame switches the knife in his hands, and leans down, putting his weight through his shoulder on Jin's left calf. The pose only looks casual. Kame slides his other hand down Jin's thigh, feeling the muscles twitch under his palm.

Jin's face is shuttered. Kame can't read his expression, but he thinks he's never had Jin's attention as fully as in this moment. Neither of them look away.

"A favour for a favour, Akanishi," Kame whispers. "I wouldn't leave a friend hanging."

It takes two fingers-- two fingers Jin takes easily-- curved at an angle Kame knows by heart, and Jin's coming all over himself in short, thick bursts.

"Look at you," Kame says.

Jin's eyes are shut. Familiar stories have familiar scripts. That's how you get to a place that feels like the end.

"Who'd believe you didn't want that, if I leave you like this?"

\---

Kame drops the knife into the bathroom sink. He'll clean it later.

His hands are shaking. Coming down off the adrenaline and endorphin rushes, he knows how this goes. Kame holds onto the cold, porcelain rim of the sink until the shaking stops, then he splashes his face with water from the tap. Jin gets to come down lying down; isn't Kame a nice guy?

He blinks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Kame's jeans are undone, hanging below his hips. He can't see any marks on the denim, but he shucks them anyway. He'll want to shower before sleeping. The blood on Kame's skin flakes off when he scratches at it.

He drinks an entire glass of water, and then fills it up again. He's thirsty. He bets Jin is, too, but he ends up leaving the glass on his bedside table. Back in Kame's bedroom, Jin looks asleep.

He also looks like a mess. His legs are down, but Jin's rolled over onto his side. He's facing the door, so Kame can see that all of his cuts have dried. He sits down on the edge of the bed, watching the reassuring rise and fall of Jin's chest. There's less blood than Kame expects, which can only be a good thing. Sweat has curled Jin's hair against his neck and he'll want a comb sooner rather than later. As for the rest, that looks like it's drying, too, pale spots and patches over Jin's abdomen. Kame guesses he'll need to change the sheets tomorrow.

He looks back over his shoulder, at the reassuring red of his bedroom wall, so that Jin won't catch him leering if he wakes up.

Ordinarily, Kame would have cleaned Jin up right away. Jin likes being fucked, but fucking isn't as high on Kame's list. He loves how far he can drive Jin that way, but it is messier than several other things they could do. Jin's first impulse during afterglow is to roll over and doze; Kame's first impulse is tissues ASAP. They're compatible like that. Kame has thought before that Jin likes the pampering.

Leaving it seemed like the thing to do tonight, the champ's impulse, not Kame's. Kame goes with things like that when he's acting, but now he's not sure. It's half disgusting, and half... if Kame's honest with himself, half arousing, to see Jin, who spends so much time trying to look unaffected, untouched by other people, so wiped out by Kame that he hasn't even wiped the evidence from his skin.

Eyes resolutely back on the wall, Kame bites his lip, thinking. Jin talked about a knife, about a bit of force, meaning business, not--

"Kaaa-zu," Jin says. He got a hand out and around Kame's wrist while Kame wasn't paying attention. "Cuuu-ddles."

Jin pulls on Kame's wrist, trying to pull him closer, while Kame stands, trying to take Jin with him. Kame wins, more momentum. They fall into each other. Kame wraps an arm around Jin, feeling Jin's arms wrap around his back. Which would be lovely, if they'd already showered.

Kame takes a step backward. Jin stumbles forward with him, holds onto Kame all the tighter, his face pressed into Kame's shoulder. Kame tries not to make a face. He's sticking to Jin's skin.

"Jin, c'mon. Shower. We are not sleeping like this."

Jin lifts his head just enough for one eye to look at Kame. "Will you carry me?"

"What? No."

"But I'm injured!"

"You asked for it," Kame retorts.

The words are out of his mouth before he can think, but all that happens is Jin blushes. And then he's laughing, they're both laughing, and Kame's not sure who's holding who up.

"Hey, Kame, you know, if I'd known you liked that kind of thing, I would have said something sooner."

"I didn't know," Kame confesses. A light shrug, raising his eyebrows at his own expense. He wonders how long Jin's known, when he first thought about Kame and a knife.

Jin thinks for a bit. His arms get tighter. "But--now, you…?" Jin grins, hopeful.

Kame nods, grinning back. He still has that skull-hilted dagger circled in the catalogue. "If you liked that, I have other ideas."

"Yeah?"

Kame leans in to whisper in Jin's ear. "I'll tell you in the shower."

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd prefer, you can also comment at my [Dreamwidth](http://threewalls.dreamwidth.org/130822.html?mode=reply) or my [Livejournal](http://threewalls.livejournal.com/342124.html?mode=reply) journals.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [On the Cutting Board](https://archiveofourown.org/works/436095) by [threewalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls)




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